Her every step has set the ground toShaking; quaking and trembling,it’s breaking off at the edgesand swallowing up every ounceof the requiem, of grief.The calling of sincerity. The jeers slipping in her veinsand boiling, bubbling under the surface.The pressure is building and steamfalls in droplets, carving canyons intothe pale framework of her cheeks.The landscape has shifted,rushing in. The scaffolding that heldher little world in placehas turned liquid and swept herstraight off her feet.She’s sucked up all her skeletonsin the whirlwind of her desireand torrents of hopelessness haveblackened out the design.It’s opening inside her:a daybreak that looks like twilight.Her womb unlocks like a fissure and there the storm rages on.The thump, thump, thumpof her latest plummet.She does not fall gracefully.She crawls through the sludgeof her latest defeat, barely on her knees.Her hands dip into the typhoon,the endless well of emptiness.She screams in silent pleas.A storm bound and bent on the declineof civilizations, of peoples, of hopesShe’s hollowed out her place here.She’s settled into the void.The unfilled.The vacant.Carnivorous yearning,ravenous famine.Her words are a pestilence,a plague on those who have stepped backto watch the rupture,to mend the breach.Storm chasers, paparazzi. She is an epidemic,Widespread, unchecked,and unbridled.Rampant and wild,she is filling this world.Encompassing.Raging.

Laura A. Lord is the founder of the blog, History of a Woman. She is the author of Wake Up a Woman, History of a Woman and The Telling. Her work has been published in The Beacon, Whirl with Words, and The Collegian. She is working on a book featuring her son’s favorite toy, Boo Bear, as well as, Perjury, a collection of short stories and poetry. She lives on the Eastern Shore of Maryland with her husband and her two children.

Bards’ Verdict: A true whirlwind of feelings, wrapped up in words and somehow made palatable by the benign nature of dark and light pixels, yet beneath them, the emotion of this poem is almost strong enough to break free of the screen.

It’s been days since we last spokeAnd I’m wondering whyDid something between us get broke?All that I know is IAm wrapped many layers deepIn such insecurityI can’t ask you outright, so keepIt public by veiling in poetryJust know that I see youI’ll wait til you’ve something to sayI’m not trying to reject youBut I can go too far the other waySometimes I can frighten(I think by clinging too tight)I wish you’d enlightenMe so I can put this rightWas I inadvertently unkind?Did I say something rude?It’s rolling around in my mindDon’t know what to concludeIf it was something I’ve doneI know that I’ll curse the dayI promise, I’d NEVER intendTo push you (of all people) awayYet it suddenly dawns on meThat I’m of no consequenceYour life might’ve got busyMaybe there is no offenseI’m just not important enough(I’d rather that, than that we had an issue)Hope you’re off doing wonderful stuff.In the meantime, I miss you.

Background: We wanted to do something different as Christmas presents one year, so I wrote this, and we put it with watercolour paintings of trees, in frames, and gave them to our nearest and dearest. Since then I’ve had more fun making images with poetry (did it today, in fact) and LOVE the versatility and cross-over of using the words to physically create the picture.

Into The LightThere is darkness.In the drink I holdThere is light.It is brief.It is faint.It is mirage; no oasis,Only a short road to tragedy.

More darkness.Let me sleep,For when I sleepI do not feel.

In the morn (my last day?),I take a breath.The plans for endless darkness failAs I reach for the lightHeld by another.

Yes.I realize, coming out of the darkness –Where there is breathThere ishope.

Sandy is a wife and mom who claims sarcasm as her superpower. When not immersed in the chaos of five kids, a husband, and a dog, she writes – and only hopes she does it well. You can see for yourself at Mother Of Imperfection.

Bards Verdict: There’s some really powerful, emotive imagery happening here, which is hugely effective in conveying the struggles the poet is experiencing, and in spite of adversity, striving to overcome. And it’s always nice to end on a hopeful note.